Ch 23
Matt’s first instinct was to run, but instead he returned a confident smile to the goblin women as he noticed a detail about the room that could work to his advantage. “No, no, I simply wish to reach the surface,” he explained, his tone light yet edged with determination, “and the other path presented dangers to my life and, more importantly, my chastity.”
“Chastity? What’s that?” asked a burly, bodybuilder-like goblin woman, her brow furrowing in genuine curiosity.
“It is the very antithesis of everything I associate with goblins,” Matt replied with a smirk as he shifted into a stance that suggested he was ready for a fight. “But circumstances like these make me realize that I should start enjoying what life has to offer while I still can.”
“We will teach you all about enjoying life,” giggled the diminutive, four-foot-tall goblin woman, her eyes twinkling mischievously. “Just let us—”
Her words cut off abruptly as Matt made his move. Instead of launching a direct attack as he had otherwise been signaling, he leaped back at a precise 45-degree angle and twisted midair. Had his stats not doubled since being integrated, he would never have been capable of such a maneuver—one that would have been straight out of an NBA dunk competition. With remarkable agility, he clutched one of the chains affixed to the wall that led up to a decrepit chandelier. Reaching over 12 feet in the air, he pulled his legs upward and began to shimmy toward the rusted fixture, quickly slipping out of the goblin women’s immediate reach.
Yet, his escape was far from guaranteed. Each chain was anchored to the wall only ten feet above the ground, and Matt was certain that at least three goblins working in unison could reach them. Even so, their coordination would take time; besides, every chandelier suspended by the chains had two connection points. Matt calculated that if he could reach one of them before the attachment connected to his current chain was yanked down, he might swing across the entire room from one ceiling fixture to another. This precarious route not only involved the half-circles through which the chains were looped, but also included straight bars that, at some point, had been used to hang other decorations, adding an extra point to hang from between each chandelier.
The scream of the tiny goblin as she began barking out orders to thwart him spurred Matt to move even faster, his focus laser-sharp on his goal. Yet, he was moving slower than he preferred, and the experience was far from comfortable. More than once, his hands were painfully pinched by the shifting chains as he climbed. Despite this, he pressed on until he suddenly felt the chain lurch upwards, swinging towards the far side of the dimly lit room when he was just about five feet from his target. This sudden movement nearly caused him to lose his grip as he struggled to manage the wild swings of the chain until it finally settled. Unfortunately for Matt, the goblin women proved to be more organized than he had anticipated, managing to undo the chain on the opposite side first.
This left Matt being jerked upward unexpectedly, and while he managed to hold onto the chain, his focus on maintaining his grip caused him to mistime letting go when it reached the ceiling. As a result, his left hand slammed painfully into the half-circle track through which the chain ran, and he barely managed to move his right hand in time to grab hold of it. Below him, he heard the thunderous crash of the chandelier hitting the ground, followed by the tiny goblin's shrill voice shouting more orders. Meanwhile, he fought through the searing pain in his left hand, dangling precariously 30 feet above the ground.
Realizing he needed to assess the damage, Matt pulled his left hand up to eye level for inspection. While his pinky and ring fingers appeared fine, that was where the good news ended, aside from the hand being in one piece. His thumb had bone protruding gruesomely, and his pointer and middle fingers hung loosely at unnatural angles, a sight that made the thought of swinging from one hanging fixture to another seem impossible. However, Matt was not ready to concede defeat as he began to more fully assess his precarious situation.
The first thing he noted was that, despite hanging by just one arm, he wasn’t nearly as fatigued as he expected. He assumed this resilience was thanks to his dramatically improved strength and stamina since his arrival, though he hadn’t anticipated such pronounced results so early on. Still, he knew there had to be a limit, and he needed to devise his next move before reaching it. With determination, he pushed through the pain in his left hand, letting it hang loosely at his side while pressing it firmly against his thigh to keep his three damaged digits aligned, hoping his minor regenerative abilities would work wonders.
"Ready to surrender?" teased a tiny goblin-like woman as her sly eyes finally met his. "I must say, you keep being the harbinger of fortune for us. Who would have thought to use chandeliers as a battering ram? Sadly for you, every time you try and fail to escape, you only entangle yourself further, and I have no intention of letting you succeed any time soon."
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"Yeah, well, I'm not done trying yet," Matt retorted in a strained voice as he stalled for time. "I can't say I’m thrilled to hear you’re making progress on your own escape while forcing me to be your captive."
"We all know how things work," she replied with a mischievous grin. "Just as if a goblin man could mate with a human woman and produce a goblin offspring overnight, you can produce a similar effect with us. It’s why our kind is forever quarantined to worlds like this, never allowed to know peace like other species."
"Worlds like this?" he questioned, a mix of incredulity and curiosity in his tone.
"Oh, forgive me," she laughed lightly, "those sent here know nothing. The bastards at the top want your kind to rise to a level where you’re merely useful for their harvesting, so they create challenge worlds to push you. This realm is designed for those who are completely untested and foolish enough to think that climbing higher is a good idea."
"Why would staying weak be anything but foolish?" he countered.
"Why do fish swim in schools?" she shot back quickly.
"People aren't fish," he replied sharply.
"Believe that while you can. Every species ranked E or lower benefits from sticking together. When something is twenty levels beneath you, it’s almost worthless in experience points, so by remaining weak, we earn a measure of protection from being harvested," she explained with cool detachment.
"Is that why goblins just have swarms of babies?" Matt asked, his tone laced with incredulity.
"Who knows?" she shrugged dismissively. "I don’t claim to know the origins of my species. All I understand is that we have long been exploited as mere tools in the grand designs of those who run the system."
Matt’s mind failed to conjure any response to that, and a moment later, cheers erupted from where the goblin women had been battling the armored goblins. Glancing toward the conflict, Matt saw that the front row of goblins had been unable to avoid being crushed as the goblin women succeeded in heaving the chandelier into them. Observing them pulling on the chain made Matt realize that his time to act was quickly running out as he asked the first question that sprang to his mind.
“What the hell is past them anyway?”
“The king’s villa, where only those most loyal to him are permitted to live,” replied the tiny goblin without hesitation. “Don’t worry, loyalty doesn’t mean strong, and the king is out in the main settlement right now. I saw him pass by not an hour before you showed up.”
“Great, so how long before a massive battle between him and a bunch of weak monsters would have him rushing back here?”
For the first time, Matt saw a worried expression cross the goblin woman’s face as she replied, “Not long at all.”
Following that, she shouted orders for several goblin women to start pulling down more chandeliers to block the stairs they had used to enter the room. As this happened, Matt glanced down at his hand, feeling his right arm grow increasingly tired. At the very least, his thumb didn’t have bone protruding from it, though all three digits still looked off, and the pain radiating from them seemed to worsen with each passing second. Matt’s thoughts about how long he could maintain the current situation were interrupted by the tiny goblin woman refocusing her attention on him.
“You can’t seriously still think there’s a path to escape us, can you?”
“The way I see it, I just have to keep hanging here until you all leave, as staying here will risk your own recapture. At that point, I just have to get lucky and avoid you on the way out.”
“Is that what you think?” replied the tiny goblin woman with a giggle.
After that, she walked away, leaving Matt dangling precariously as he willed his injured hand to heal faster. Uncertain if his minor regeneration worked in such a way, he clung to the hope that his hand would mend quickly enough for him to grip something—preferably sooner rather than later. Every passing second piled on the strain in his right arm, yet he forced himself to remain focused on the actions he needed to take to survive.
Meanwhile, somewhere far off from where Matt was clinging on, Tempormr watched the entire spectacle with a subtle, knowing smile. Unlike Matt, Tempormr understood that regeneration only improved when triggered by injury; every cut and bruise helped the ability grow stronger. He knew that by the time Matt fully unlocked his healing system, what had once been a minor trait would have evolved into a much more substantial form of regeneration. Tempormr was well aware that the hard road ahead was essential—it was through these hardships that Matt would ultimately prove himself worthy as he grew in power.
Believing in this necessary trial, Tempormr deliberately accelerated the pace at which time affected Matt’s body. Without this intervention, Matt’s injuries would still be in a dire state, and his right arm would have reached its limit much sooner. Still, it was thanks to his minor regenerative power that his body could endure the forced strain. As he hung there, his regeneration was healing the micro-tears in his muscles in real time—albeit leading to lopsided gains that would require correction later.
Matt marveled at how he had managed to hang on for a full ten minutes. When his left hand, now free from pain, reached out, he allowed himself a brief smile. His grip, though accompanied by discomfort, was firm enough to let his right arm rest for just a minute. But the second he sensed the strain building in his left arm, he reengaged his right and began to swing his body. Beads of sweat poured down his face as he rocked back and forth, building the momentum needed to reach a bar positioned eight feet away from his current hold. From his perilous position, it was clear that landing a grip on that bar was far from a sure bet.
Undeterred, Matt timed his move perfectly. With a deep, determined breath, he released his hold, convinced that his leap would succeed. His release was flawless—his trajectory carried him perilously close to the ceiling without touching it, and he sailed nearly horizontal before twisting mid-arc. In that critical moment, his feet pointed toward the bar, and then his hands reached out and gripped it tightly. However, as his momentum nudged his legs forward in triumph, he made a crucial mistake. A slight relaxation allowed his hands to slip from the bar, sending him into free fall with nearly no momentum left, and panic quickly began to set in.
